Last Day for Temptation
by Piccolo is green
Summary: Bulma Briefs is convinced that she has one day left to live. What will she do? Give into temptation, and do all those things that are naughty, but oh so nice. B/V one shot, set the day before the Cell games. For Kinky-Typo’s Art Jam.


**A/N:** I know, I've got other fics to work on, but I wanted to do another B/V one-shot, and Kinky-Typo's theme for her art jam this month (The night before the Cell Games) sounded interesting. At first I tried to do something really serious with this theme, but after two attempts realized that I just wasn't in the mood for that. So here is one of my lighter fics, I wouldn't call it my best work, but hey….

(And to those "Attractions..." fans, yes, I'm working on that fic. The next chapter is halfway through, and I plan to get that chapter completed very soon).

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.**

**Last Day for ****Temptation**

"Trunks," Bulma spoke, using the bossiest of her tones as she cornered the elder version of her son between the fridge and the oven. "Tell me the truth. Can you beat Cell?"

"Uhh," her teenage son blanched, already wilting under her harsh gaze. She watched with a sick sense of pleasure as his eyes darted across the room, searching for an exit, only to find that he had none available.

Oh, how she loved overpowering powerful men.

"It's a simple question, Trunks," she pressed, folding her arms as if she were in a boardroom meeting. "Yes or no; can you beat Cell?"

"Well," the teenager replied, licking his lips as he avoided eye contact. "I wouldn't say that I had the power myself, but…"

"So if you were to fight Cell right now, you'd die?" she asked coldly, capturing him with her dagger gaze.

Trunks' lips pressed into a thin line; a gesture she recognized easily as one of his father's. Whenever he had to admit to something he disliked, Vegeta did the very same thing, lips pressing together and jaw clenching tight. Bulma could almost hear Trunks' teeth grinding together from where she stood.

"That's correct," the young Saiyan finally replied in even, clipped tones. Bulma suddenly had the hysterical urge to laugh at just how similar her son really was to his father, the man who had driven her insane from the day he first set foot on Capsule Corporation's land.

"Your father?" she asked now, taking a step forward. In response, Trunks backed up another step, pressing his shoulders firmly against the humming appliances behind him.

"What about him?" the boy asked nervously.

"Could he beat Cell?"

Bulma bit the inside of her cheeks as she watched her son's eyes widen in shock, then dart around once more, no doubt checking where his father was in relation to them. Finally the teen took in an audible gulp of air, shaking his head softly from side to side, so that his long lavender hair gleamed softly in the light.

"I don't think so," the boy whispered fearfully, as if he expected Vegeta to hear them from within the gravity chamber where he trained.

"Hmm," Bulma nodded, biting her lip in thought. "And Son?"

"Goku?" Trunks questioned. "Well… he said himself that he wasn't strong enough… but then he said not to worry… that he had a plan…"

Bulma had been worried prior to this information, but at this her stomach took a definite somersault, landing in such a twist that she felt suddenly sick. Son Goku had always been sure of his strength before; for the Earth's greatest hero to doubt his own strength now spoke total doom.

"Do you think _anyone_ will defeat Cell?" she asked her son, her voice suddenly much quieter, full of pleading and despair. Trunks simply shook his bowed head slowly.

"I'm sorry mom," he spoke quietly, "but I don't see how we're going to survive past tomorrow."

***

The heiress to one of the largest companies on Earth stood on her living room balcony, looking out over the city before her. Suddenly, she found herself compelled to examine her life, from her first day of school, to her first love, to the day she found out she was pregnant with Trunks.

_And what would it mean_, she asked herself, _if the Earth were to suddenly disappear?_

Sadness filled her soul, a lone tear escaping down her cheek, as she found the answer.

_Nothing._

If there was nothing here but a pile of space dust, well, there wouldn't be anything to remember her by. There would be no records of her beauty, intelligence, wealth; no records of her achievements and adventures, either.

Worst of all, the one thing that she thought was guaranteed would be gone, too. She would not live forever.

She looked down at the baby at her feet, his sweet voice burbling softly at a fly that buzzed around his portable seat. Through this baby, _her_ baby, she would have lived forever, in some small way. Whether it be through her eyes, or her high IQ, which she _knew_ her son would have, some small part of her would have been passed on to the next generation, and again and again. And those children- her lovely descendants- they could have remembered her, and made it seem as if her life had been worthwhile.

But now Cell was going to destroy everything, literally. And so there would be no future, and with it, no past. As if none of them ever existed.

"Fine," Bulma stated suddenly, holding her head up high to the wind. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to fucking enjoy it!"

Baby Trunks gurgled happily at his mothers cursing, his bright blue eyes watching as she lit her first cigarette in over two years, and took a long, savoured puff.

***

For lunch, Bulma had chocolate mud cake, topped with extra cream. As a treat, she gave her baby a huge lollipop, and giggled with him as he smeared the sticky sugar through his hair.

For afternoon tea, she made a picnic, and sat outside with both of her sons, enjoying the spring sunshine that streamed down on Capsule Corporation's lawn. Yelling at the top of her lungs- just because she felt like it- she told the world that she was the best damned woman to ever have graced the Earth, her fists raised towards the heavens in open defiance.

At dinner she ignored all good table manners, and sucked on another cigarette. She ate until she was full, stuffing herself with roasted chicken, pork and beef, topped with gravy. She ignored the existence of vegetables, and ate a piece of stuffed crust pizza instead. Then she belched loudly, making both her sons laugh with mirth, and guzzled down a bourbon coke.

It was at dessert that His Highness, Prince Vegeta, graced them with his presence. By then, baby Trunks was looking considerable worse for wear, murmuring baby talk to himself while his head lolled forward, droopy-eyed. After stuffing his face with custard and ice cream, the elder Trunks offered to deposit the sleepy baby in his grandmother's arms, where the child would surely fall asleep within moments.

"Thank you darling," Bulma smiled sweetly at her teenage son, waving to her little baby as he was carried up the stairs. She would check on both of the boys later, when they were both sleeping soundly in their beds, but until then, she had other things that needed to be done.

She glanced covertly across the table, watching as the Saiyan Prince finished off two tubs of ice cream and a carrot cake, and decided that when it came to dessert, she had room for seconds of a _different_ kind.

***

"What is the meaning of this?" Vegeta asked with surprise as Bulma grinned devilishly and strolled into his bedroom, making sure to shut the door firmly behind her. She shivered at her body hit the rush of cool air that streamed in from the open doors that led onto a private balcony, and took a deep breath, hoping her nerves wouldn't get the best of her at this crucial moment.

Vegeta stood in nothing but plain boxer shorts, his arms crossed lightly as his eyes travelled slowly up her legs, lingering at the hem of her silk nightgown, hanging halfway up her thighs, before travelling further up. The sight of her bra-less chest stopped the man's eyes again, and Bulma bit her lip, flushing a little with the awareness that the cold air was having a considerable effect on that region.

Finally, those dark, brooding eyes met hers, his head shifting subtly in the familiar body language that she realized she had been missing all along. The thought that he still meant something to her, something _more_ significant than good sex and the fact that he had fathered her child, set off butterflies in her stomach and made her feel breathless.

_Beautiful_, she thought, her own eyes lingering on his bronze skin, watching as a single drop of water ran down the side of his neck to disappear, evaporated by his natural Saiyan heat. His hair was still damp, she noted with an air of detachment. He had just finished showering.

She looked back up at his face to see the ghost of a smirk present on his lips, the very corner of his mouth twitching subtly. She sniffed, straitening her back and holding her head high. She never liked it when he laughed at her.

"Do you intend to stand there all night?" he asked suddenly, "Or do you actually have a purpose in being here?"

She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. It hadn't always been like this; she certainly hadn't been shy of Vegeta while in the midst of their fling. But it was now eleven months after the fact, and those eleven months of loneliness spent in pregnancy and midnight feedings had left her feeling as if her carefree nights with the Prince had been nothing but dreams. He had gone to train in space when she had been four months along; he hadn't returned until the androids showed. Although she tried not to show it, it saddened her that there was now such a great distance between them.

"Sex," she said curtly, and shrugged her shoulders. No point in beating about the bush any longer; she knew he already knew what she was there for- it was pretty damn obvious, given the state of her clothes- so there really wasn't any option left but to say it.

"Well then," he spoke softly, and she closed her eyes briefly with a sigh. She heard him chuckle, and then he was walking towards her, closing the gap between them with excruciating slowness.

Then they were suddenly out in the cold breeze, the air ripping at her hair and nightgown as Vegeta climbed higher and higher into the sky. She would have screamed, but the sheer shock of the cold blast and the surging upward motion left both her lungs and stomach on the ground, failing miserably to catch up.

Eventually, he slowed, spinning softly as he held her body to him, his strong arms wrapped firmly about her waist. She could do nothing more than lock her arms tightly around his neck, peering over his shoulder at the view below as he continued to rotate slowly, giving her a 360 degrees view of West City at night.

She shook her head in disbelief at the beauty of it all, with the lights below shining like the stars that hung above them. He turned his head gently to kiss her ear, trailing along her jaw until he found her mouth, his soft lips saying more with actions than they ever would with words.

When the kiss broke she threw her arms open and her head back, cackling in the wind. She felt free- far more than she had in _years_- trusting that he wouldn't let her fall, and for once not caring if she did. _This_ was life as she wished to live it, high above cities in the realm of clouds, with the wind flowing through her hair and the stark chill of the night right there on her skin. She felt as if nothing could touch her in this moment as she floated atop the world.

And then warms hands slid up under her clothing, and she moved instinctually, shivers of cold being replaced by shivers of a different kind. Vegeta was suddenly back to being what she had missed the most during their separation- just another person, as lonely as she. The fact that he was a super-powered alien with homicidal tendencies was forgotten, floating away like their cloudy breaths in the air, and he simply became _her man_.

Later, she would remember only flashes of what went on in the sky. Their movements seemed to blur together, even when up there, her head lost to the sheer adrenaline of living. She lost all sense of time, not knowing whether it had been minutes or hours until they set their feet once more on the ground. Light-headed, flushed and giddy, she had taken Vegeta's arm, allowing him to guide her over to the bed.

When she woke in the morning he was still there, moving silently around the room as he dressed, piece by piece. He glanced at her briefly, and she smiled back, fingers tracing the line of her swollen lips. She rose form the bed, crossing the room to him as if she still floated in the air, one hand lifting to hover lightly over his face.

He did not speak to her, but stood still, allowing her to examine him as she committed every line and angle to memory. She touched his fine hair, ran a finger along one of his brows, and kissed his lips softly.

"Come back to me," she whispered in parting, and watched as he flew into the horizon.

She knew then that it didn't matter if there were things left to remember her by or not, should the day end in doom. What mattered- the only thing that mattered- was that she lived.

Vegeta had given her the greatest gift of all- a reminder that she had.


End file.
